


There's you and me and us

by twelveisagoodone



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: And all those feelings, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Unplanned Pregnancy, and they have all time and space haven't they?, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28459422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelveisagoodone/pseuds/twelveisagoodone
Summary: There will always time for them. He has a time machine after all.
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	There's you and me and us

**Author's Note:**

> Not betaed, so sorry for my mistakes. But I just keep finding these old stories in my computer and I thought, why not? So i'm taking the chances and putting all of them out.

They are travelling practically non-stop these days, for how long none of them know for sure, or dare to find out actually. They are happy and there is no real reason for them to stop. So they keep travelling and running and laughing and helping people in a way that it's only theirs. Just the Doctor and Clara Oswald in the TARDIS. Same old, same old. 

It's not like he feels the change in her, though sometimes he can read her more easily than he would ever admit. When she enters the console room, freshly bathed after another long adventure, he knows that she will ask him for a break. 

It shouldn't sting him like this since it's only logic. After so long, she misses her family, wants to visit them and obviously needs to take a look at her now abandoned flat. She murmurs something about tying up some loose knots at the school she still officially works for and looks at him with those eyes. And he just can't dismiss this unsettling feeling in the pitch of his stomach that only makes him feel ridiculous. Because it honestly is. She is not leaving forever, not even for a long time. She will come back in the blink of an eye, won't she? And it will make her happy, so he should be happy about it too. Besides, he can always pull a lever and pop up in her flat at the end of the week. But that would be cheating.

Now that he is thinking, spending some time by himself will do him good too. There is a lot of repairs in the TARDIS he keeps postponing in favour of the thrill of the next adventure with her. Besides, he is used to be by himself, he has done it for most of his life, so why not now? Being alone, tinkering around the TARDIS, drifting peacefully in the Time Vortex. Or having an adventure. Alone. 

He pushes back a sigh, shakes himself off the dread and decides to happily oblige it. Or at least he thinks he looks happy while he watches her walking towards the door hours later. But maybe, just maybe, he must be doing something wrong because there is now a small crease crinkling her forehead when she looks at him. For a moment he thinks that he would like to smooth it with a soft kiss. He blinks. If only.

"Be fine, ok?"

"Of course," he scoffs and waves a dismissive hand at her, forcing a smile out of his lips. "Now, off you go." 

The door closes at her back with an irritating creak and he pulls a lever that makes the ship jump back to the time vortex. And then, there is nothing but the low humming of the TARDIS surrounding him. And he notices once more how incredibly silent and empty the TARDIS is without Clara's big brown eyes watching him from the top of that bright smile of hers.

He shakes the feeling of dread out of him and claps his hands together. Work. He needs to occupy his mind and body with work. And he has a lot of work to do, right? 

He bites his lower lip. His hands twitch and his fingers tingle close to the controls over the console. But he must be strong. He won't cheat. She asked him for a couple of days and he will give them a couple of days. Even if his hearts don't seem to agree with that.

So he is alone. He can do alone. And it's not like Clara and he spent all their time in the TARDIS together. No. They have their own moments of solitude too. But the thing is that the mere knowledge that she is around, at somewhere inside his almost infinite ship, seems to fill the place with something different that just makes everything look... right. And now that she isn't here, well, everything is just boring. To say the least. 

He just places the tools back into the drawer. Nobody can blame him for not trying, right? Besides, what is the purpose of having a time machine if he can't indulge himself in just a little tiny cheat? 

Running back to the console room, he sets the coordinates to four days ahead in her timeline and, in a moment, the TARDIS lands at the usual spot inside her bedroom, which, by the way, certainly will earn him a scolding later. He can't help but smile when he steps outside the TARDIS to see that fortunately, he hasn't smashed any piece of her furniture this time. 

“Clara?” His voice echoes in the empty bedroom as he walks through the door, crossing the equally empty living room to her kitchen without finding her. Probably he is earlier than he has planned, his rush for being with her again making him place the wrong coordinates. Not that he is anxious. Not at all. Well, maybe a little.

He makes his way back to the TARDIS with slow steps decided to wait for her inside the ship but makes a detour to the bathroom first. It's the only place he hasn't inspected yet. 

Cautiously, he knocks at the door, remembering how she had insisted that he must do it after he had caught her a couple of times in the shower and spotted much more of her skin than she was really prepared to show him. Or he was prepared to see yet. 

"Clara," he clears his throat. "Are you in there?" He presses his ear against the wooden door when he doesn't get an answer and only silence answers him from the other side. So he opens the door very slowly to peek inside. It is equally empty. 

A low sigh escapes his lips and he leans against the doorframe to scratch the back of his neck. So, there is no other way, he will have to wait for her. Of course, he can once more come back to the TARDIS and move forward just a little bit, but he doesn't think it will be wise. Chances are that he will move too far away and will get late, which will only upset her. So, the lesser of the evils, wait he will.

He was about to come back inside the TARDIS when the sight of a small box on the floor caught his eye. He kneels to collect it; a benevolent smile crossing his lips. His little control freak must’ve missed the litter, he thinks, his mind barely registering the text written in big blue letters when he tosses the box inside it.

The information takes exactly twelve milliseconds to finally drop and he freezes at the door.

Pregnancy test.

He blinks, once, twice and slowly turns around to look at the discarded box inside the litter, his eyes reading the label carefully. And then he reads it again. And once more. And even after one more time the label still says the same thing. 

Pregnancy test.

Confusion and exasperation and a lot of other feelings he can't catalogue washes over him and for an agonising whole minute, he just can't think straight. 

What is that supposed to mean? 

He walks back to her bedroom with two long strides and starts to pace the room, chewing his thumb, mind racing uncontrollably while he tries to figure out that piece of information. Is she pregnant? How?

Oh, right, he knows how humans get pregnant, of course, that is not the point. But when? When had she got time to be with some of those stupid and probably muscular pudding brains if she had been travelling with him for more than… He bites his lower lip. 

Oh.

So, probably not an Earth male then. At least not one of her own time. Perhaps someone she had met in one of their travels? But then again he can't remember a moment or someone that had caught her attention in that way. No one else but… 

Oh.

He lets himself fall heavily on her bed, blinking in confusion. But that can't have happened since they had never…

OH.

He has to focus on keep breathing when realisation dawns upon him because his lungs seem suddenly too tight inside his ribcage. 

They hadn't. Never. Except... for that one time. That one single night they had never really talked about and both of them seemed to silently agree that had never happened. 

Actually, after a lot of thinking he had almost convinced himself that nothing had really happened even though they had woken up naked at the same messy bed with an epic hangover that had practically knocked him out for the subsequent two days. Not to mention poor dear Clara that had been dragging herself around for almost an entire week.

He should’ve known better than drink a dozen of Martian Red tequilas, let alone allowed Clara to taste them without checking before what kind of effect it could have in humans. Stupid, stupid Doctor so eager for being the target of her adorable smiles and lingering gazes.

The Doctor runs a hand through his face, a small sigh leaving his lips. After Christmas they had been more affectionate to each other, slowly getting closer, putting walls down and building a path to something that had the potential to change into something deeper, if… if only he allowed her in. 

His hand these days searches for hers more frequently and not only when they are running for their lives. He finally learned how to relax inside her embrace and even hugs her sometimes. She kisses him too, usually on the cheek. But sometimes, on very special occasions, she kisses him on the mouth, her lips lingering over his longer than it should. And in those moments, he never complains, too enraptured by the feeling of her soft and warm lips to be able to think about anything else.

He knows they will get there eventually when both of them are ready for it, which definitely hadn't been on that infamous night. It had been too early, too hasty, an accident that might or mightn’t have happened caused by reckless drinking. 

It wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Making love for the first time with the woman he loves so deeply while being so drunk he can't remember isn't even close to what he has always thought it will happen. He wants it to be special, a moment for both of them cherish and remember and be happy about it. And yet…

He groans. But it has happened, hasn’t it? There is no way to deny it, not now, when Clara is pregnant with his child and everything will change between them and… 

He will be a father. 

He tries not to hyperventilate. He doesn't even know if he still knows how to do it. He isn't really prepared to be a father. Again. Not now. 

And how will they possibly raise a child inside the TARDIS, living a life full of perils, never sure about where they will land on the next day and being constantly exposed to the Time Vortex? That can't be good for a small child. Well, all considering that Clara will remain by his side after this, that is. 

He thinks she will. Because she… well, as impossible as it might be, but it seems to him that she likes him. Maybe a little more than like. She loves him, he knows it, even if she has never really said the words. But how can he ignore all the feelings that keep coming to him in those strong and warm waves that emanate from her mind? She loves him. Even now, after he had been an idiot too scared to acknowledge what had happened between them that night. Well, he supposes that she's forgiven him for never talking about it because she probably doesn't remember a thing too.

The Doctor sighs. So, unless he ruins everything, which considering his history with her isn't something so hard of happening, she will stay with him. 

And they will have their child together and will raise them together.  
They are both clever people, they will find a safe and responsible way to raise their child to be the happiest kid in the universe. 

Clara’s child. Their child.

A miracle conceived among the stars. He can't refrain a soft smile. With Clara’s dark eyes, full of amazement and enthusiasm for the Universe, and with that same smile able to lit up his entire world in a flash of a dimple which for sure will keep him forever wrapped around their little finger. He almost laughs. He is a fool for Clara, he knows that much and he is pretty sure that he will be even worse about their child.

The thought that the baby can be more like Clara and less like him warms and pains his heart in equal measures. Part of him fears about the child possible humanity. Shorter lifespan. 

He has always been a selfish man and here he is again, wishing that this child can have at least a little part of him, that the genetic miracle that is growing inside Clara Oswald can be more Gallifreyan than human, so he won't have to face one more loss. 

Because he knows that one day he will lose Clara. It doesn't matter how much he tries to ignore that, he still will remain long after she has gone. But knowing that a part of her will still exist in the form of their child, that a part of their love will be alive, strong and bright in the eyes of that new being, can only give him the strength to keep going. 

His bittersweet reverie is interrupted by the sound of the front door closing and he practically runs to meet Clara at the middle of the living room, catching her completely off guard when he envelops her in a tight embrace.

“Hey,” her voice is muffled against his chest and her arms slowly come around him to give him a soft pat on his back. “You ok?”

“Yes,” he murmurs in her hair, hoarse and low, still not willing to let her go. “You?”

She moves away from him just enough to look at him, big brown eyes peering at his face with concern. "I'm good," she finally smiles and his lips curl into a half-smile when she goes on her tiptoes to peck his cheek. 

“So,” he clears his throat, finally letting go of her, “how were your days off?”

“Good,” she discards her purse on the couch and kicks off her shoes, collecting them to walk to her bedroom with him on her heels. “Granny and Dad are doing great. The school’s headmaster told me that I can come back anytime I want and I packed a couple of things to take with me to the TARDIS. So, I think,” she gives him a bright smile from over her shoulder, “I think you can start to plan our next adventure.” 

She opens her bedroom door just to let out a short laugh when it hits the solid blue box parked in front of it with a soft thud. As usual, there is only enough space for them to sneak inside. 

“You'll never learn, will you?” Clara glares at him and he prepares himself for a reprimand that never comes. “So, this was what that hug was about, hm?"

He furrows his eyebrows watching her while she tosses the pair of shoes inside the wardrobe and takes off her jacket to throw it over the bed.

“No! Don’t be ridiculous,” he huffs, clearly offended, what earns him a quipped brow. But there is amusement in the pair of brown eyes that watch him while she walks to her bathroom. 

He twists his fingers anxiously, stopping in front of the door and deciding for sitting at the edge of her bed. He isn't that brave. 

“Clara?”

He can hear the sound of the water running from the tap on the sink.

“Hmm?”

“Are you sure you don’t have anything else to tell me?”

“No. I think I’ve told you pretty much everything, short version. Unless you are interested in hearing Gran’s considerations about the last Eastenders episode.”

“Not exactly what I’m looking for.” He bites his thumb. Of course, she won't give him that so easily. “Are you sure that you are feeling alright? Nothing… Different? Unusual?”

“I’m fine. Nothing wrong with me,” a short laugh. “Why are you keep ask-”

She can't finish the sentence and he holds his breath and waits. It takes her a long silent moment to reemerge through the door, wide eyes full of a dozen different emotions. It still confuses him how she can do it, but now isn't really the best moment to try to find it out.

“Why do you keep asking me this?” Her voice is quiet, eyes fixed on him. 

He swallows hard. “I’m just worried about you.”

“Worried? Why?” She gives two little steps towards him and his eyes follow her. “You found it out, didn’t you?”

He chews on his thumb. There is something amiss. She doesn't seem to be so enthusiastic about it like he thought she would. And it makes his hearts ache like they are being ripped out of his chest. Unable to keep looking at her, he averts his eyes trying to find a way out of this. Until he feels her gentle touch on his hand.

“Doctor?”

“I found it on the floor,” he says quietly, still not looking at her. "You probably had missed the litter.”

He can feel her eyes over him, studying him, silently fighting a battle herself while he struggles to not fall apart. Because she is not happy about it. How foolish of him to think that she would like to have his baby. 

“Don’t you need to worry, right?” There is a hint of sadness in her tone when she adds, head bowed, eyes on the floor even if her hand still covers his. "I'm not."

He finally looks at her, eyes full of confusion. And that hurts him more than he could've expected. 

"You... You are not?" His voice shakes and there is surprise in the pair of dark eyes that look back at him. Clara shakes her head, slowly, her eyes searching his.

“Did you think I was?”

He simply nods, lowering his gaze.

“Oh,” she bites her lower lip, eyes scanning his face before she speaks again. “And was it a good thought?”

He looks at her for a moment and then his lips curl into a meek smile. “Yes,” he covers the hand she keeps over his with his free one.

She swallows hard. “I’m sorry.”

He takes both of her hands in his and slowly and very gently pulls her into his arms. "Please, don't be," his voice is a soft whisper in her hair and she seems to relax in his embrace. "There is still time."

“Time for what?” She moves away from him to look into his eyes and he can see the gleam of unshed tears on her dark ones.

“For you and me,” he smiles softly. “For us.”


End file.
